Ok so I'm gonna organise them into sections so it's easier to know where they are.
Genshin impact
Albedo
Razor
Kaeya
Diluc
Venti
Zhongli
Hilichurls
Aether
Kazuha
Eula
Rosaria
Lisa
Ninguan
Keqing
Arataki Itto
Gorou
Yunjin
Lumine
Resident evil
Karl Heisenberg
Lady dimetrescu
Chris redfield
Moreau
Donna benniviento
Ethan winters
Leon Kennedy
Jill valentine
Carlos riveria
Nemesis
Mr x
Harry potter
Harry potter
Ron Weasley
Fred Weasley
George Weasley
Hermione Granger
Neville Longbottom
Luna Lovegood
Tom Riddle
Cedric Diggory
Seamus Finnigan
Oliver Wood
And that's all for now ☺️
Also as a quick side note even tho I do write for Harry potter this does not mean in any way do I condone the actions of jk. Being LGBT myself this blog is a safe place for ANY GENDER and I will write for any gender just please specify when submitting a request ☺️
A/N: Omg a fanfic that isn't about Steve Rogers?!?! Hope you enjoy :) Also, school is starting soon but I will try to write as much as I can. I actually do find writing these enjoyable. Fanfic writing is different but fun. It's nice to use my English somewhere aside from just writing essays 🥹.
P.S. Listen to this song right now or I will hurt you:
Flirt
Word count: 2.8k
Summary: During a night out with his close friend, Y/N encounters Tony Stark and they immediately hit it off. Get that bag, Y/N!
"Are you sure about this, Sal?" Y/N said, uncertainty laced in his voice.
"100% sure. You need to get your mind off of that cheating douchebag." Sal responded with no hesitation. A small sigh came from Y/N's mouth. He knew deep down that she was right.
After finding out his ex had been cheating on him, Y/N had rotted in his house for almost two weeks, completely isolating himself from the outside world. Only today, when his closest friend Sal practically broke his front door down, had he been freed from his lovelorn pitying.
Now, Sal was forcing Y/N out for a much-needed night out in town, determined to help him forget about his troubles, at least for just a couple of hours. The two were currently headed to one of the liveliest bars downtown, with the promise of copious amounts of alcohol and good company.
"Look, I know this might not be what you want right now," Sal said, giving Y/N a reaffirming pat on the shoulder. "But, just trust me. We're going to enjoy the night, the drinks and the people, and," Sal's head turned slightly, giving a Y/N a small smirk, "we might even find you a nice man there."
Y/N turned downward and began shaking his head to hide the smile forming on his face – he ultimately failed. "Yeah, yeah alright." While his very recent relationship's ending was abrupt and messy, the idea of finding someone new was very enticing. His previous boyfriend was, according to Sal, "hot trash", so he believed tonight could be the chance to find a truly suitable partner for him.
"That's the spirit," Sal grinned, tightly hugging Y/N's side. "Now let's go and make very questionable decisions."
Y/N chuckled despite himself, softly pushing Sal off of him. Maybe tonight would be when he'd truly move on.
------------------------------------
According to Y/N's inner monologue, the bar itself was quite lovely. It was a quaint, hole-in-the-wall establishment yet very populated. People occupied the bar's booths in large groups, their conversations filling the atmosphere with a nice volume. The warm and soft lighting gave the space a slight touch of intimacy. As he continued looking around, Y/N grimaced as he glanced toward a corner of the bar and saw a couple making out, their hands touching in places that were definitely inappropriate for a public space. However, despite seeing the touchy-feely pair, Y/N could tell tonight would be somewhat fun.
The two settled down on two barstools at the bar's front. Sal, being the more outgoing of the one, wasted no time waving down the bartender. "Two tequila shots, please," she said with a grin. It was a tradition for the two to begin a night out with tequila shots – a nice ritual that set the tone for the night.
The bartender slid two shot glasses filled to the brim with tequila. The two each grabbed a glass, Sal raising hers and toasting, "to a night of fun and forgetting."
Y/N raised his also, saying, "Cheers to whatever comes our way." The two smiled at each other, clinking their glasses before downing their drinks in one swift gulp.
Y/N's face scrunched in pain upon swallowing. The feeling of tequila was familiar to Y/N as he and Sal have spent multiple nights out together. However, he never grew as much of a tolerance as her for the throat-burning it caused when ingesting it. He coughed slightly, but laughed, a tingly feeling spreading throughout his chest.
Sal leaned over, slightly nudging Y/N's elbow. "So, what'll it be next for us? Should we try something strong or should steady ourselves for tonight?"
Y/N thought deeply for a moment before responding. "Let's try something different," he said, feeling bolder. "How about margaritas?"
Sal laughed. "Alright, margaritas it is. Don't blame me though for how shit-faced you might get."
Y/N rolled his eyes, but couldn't prevent the smile from forming on his face. "I guess we'll see," he replied, feeling the anticipation from what the night has to offer.
------------------------------------
Sal and Y/N had 3 margaritas and 4 tequila shots in each and were already a tad inebriated. Despite the bar being quite packed, their egregiously loud laughter carried around the room, causing people to look at them with slight annoyance.
Suddenly, Sal's eyes widened and she began choking on her drink. "Holy shit, bitch," she semi-yelled, catching Y/N's attention. "Don't look behind you, but Tony 'Richboy' Stark just came in with a really hot dude."
Y/N wasn't the type to listen to directions he was told – especially when inebriated – so despite Sal's warnings, he immediately looked. And Sal was correct. There, unmistakably, was Tony Stark clad in a simple tux with a black tie near the bar's entrance. Next to him was an equally attractive man, taller, with blonde hair and broad shoulders. Upon second glance, Y/N realized the other man was the Captain America.
Y/N's eyes had wandered on Tony while he was surveying the bar's interior. For a brief moment, their gazes met under the glow of the bar's warm lighting. Y/N quickly looked away. However, his curiosity got the better of him and he glanced once more. Tony's eyes were still on him, firm but with an undertone of curiosity. Y/N wanted to so desperately look away, but their stare lingered. The world seemed to fade during their intimate stare-off. A palpable tension was shared between them, and it wasn't until Tony flashed Y/N a small smile before heading to a vacant booth that it vanished.
A slight slap on Y/N's arm broke him from his trance. "Dude! I literally told you not to look and guess what you did? Look!" Y/N had to quiet down Sal's loud reprimanding voice, afraid a certain someone would hear her. She regained her composure after a few minutes of quiet yelling and continued drinking her third margarita. "Okay, but he was definitely checking you out," Sal slurred with a volume even a person outside the bar could hear.
A loud cough erupted from Y/N's mouth, an attempt to drown out Sal's voice. "He was absolutely not," he protested, taking a sip of his drink. "He was just checking out the place, and our eyes coincidentally met when he was looking at the front of the bar."
"Oh, Y/N," Sal said, slowly shaking her head. "I know you may be slow in the head–" Y/N was about to object before Sal put a finger to his lips, effectively shutting his mouth. "But you'd practically have to be blind to not notice him eyeing you like a piece of fine meat."
"Okay, but..." Y/N was at a loss for words, partly for the fact he was intoxicated but also because Tony Stark was definitely checking him out. Their stare-off lasted a little too long to be considered anything but friendly. "Wait, why were you looking at him I thought we weren't supposed to look?"
"Well, Y/N," Sal said, sloppily standing from the bar stool and grabbing her purse. "I will be going to the bathroom right now. I hope nothing significant will occur during my absence, like, say, a certain Avenger approaching you while you're sat here all alone." She winked, her gait wobbly from the alcohol.
Before Y/N could yell at her to return, she already turned the bar's corner into the restrooms. Y/N silently cursed, downing his margarita before ordering another one. His heart was beating fast, and he glanced towards where Tony was sitting. As if on cue, Tony looked up from his conversation with Captain America, catching his gaze. This time, Tony's smile widened, and he leaned in and whispered something to Steve. Y/N's pulse quickened. Then, Tony stood up from his booth and started towards Y/N. He quickly turned around, "fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered under his breath.
Y/N could feel Tony's presence approaching. He radiated wealth, power, and overall playboy hubris with each step. As he drew closer, Y/N's anxiety reached a peak. He started drawing his focus away from the intimidating man, attempting to look very intently at the bar's collection of liquor. But Tony's sensation, magnetic as ever, couldn't be ignored by Y/N.
Tony sat on the barstool Sal was on before she left. Y/N felt his palms and the back of his knees becoming clammy, unsure if it was from the alcohol or the undeniably attractive billionaire beside him. It was probably the latter. Tony cleared his throat to catch the attention of the bartender. "I'll take a beer, please."
After Tony got his beer, an uncomfortable silence washed over the two men. Tony wasn't speaking and Y/N was too out of it to verbalize anything. Wasn't Tony – billionaire, playboy, philanthropist – Stark supposed to start their conversation, he silently thought. Suddenly getting very impatient, Y/N put the burden on himself to verbally approach Tony first. "I always thought you were a hard liquor person," Y/N's voice came out, evident in his speech that he was decently drunk.
Tony glanced at Y/N, a hint of amusement in his expression. "I've been trying to lay off the drinking for a while," he replied, taking a sip of his beer. "Only wimpy drinks for me tonight."
Y/N nodded, trying to focus on Tony's words despite his tipsiness. He could feel Tony's eyes on him, curious and unwavering. His gaze was intimidating but felt strangely warm at the same time.
Tony leaned in slightly, his tone teasing. "And what about you. I didn't peg you to be a margarita guy."
Y/N smiled, his confidence from the liquid courage abating his nerves. "I like to keep 'em guessing, Mr. Stark." He took another sip of his margarita. "Only the good ones."
Tony's grin widened slightly. "Does that make me one of the 'good ones'?"
"That depends on how you treat me tonight," Y/N replied, his voice flirtier than he expected it to be.
Another silence came after Y/N's words – a comfortable one, unlike the last time. Y/N sneaked a few glances towards Tony, finding him looking straight ahead bearing a small content smile.
"So what brings you here with" – Y/N gestured towards Steve – "that hunk of a man," Y/N asked, cutting through the quiet.
Tony set down his beer. "Well, I just got off a very important business meeting and decided to head here to unwind. Heard this place had some...interesting company." He then looked towards Y/N. "Capsicle's here as my plus one."
Y/N felt his cheeks go red. "'Interesting company,' huh?" he echoed, his nervousness returning again.
Tony nodded, his expression playful. "Very interesting," he reaffirmed. "And it seems," Tony picked up his beer, gesturing it towards Y/N. "I've made the right choice."
A sudden cough erupted from Y/N's mouth, elicited by Stark's notorious innate flirtiness. "You can't just say that, Tony. We just met and you don't even know my name."
Tony chuckled, clearly amused by Y/N's reaction. "You're right," he admitted, leaning back slightly. "But I don't need to know your name to recognize you're someone worth talking to." He took another quick sip of his beer. "Names are just a formality anyway. I'd rather know the person behind the name."
Y/N felt a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. Despite knowing of Tony's infamous charismatic boldness, it felt nerve-wracking being on the receiving end of it. It was a strange experience. "You surely know how to keep someone on their toes, Mr. Stark."
Tony smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So, whaddya say? Do I get your name or do I have to keep guessing for a little longer?"
Y/N hesitated briefly before deciding to play along with Tony's game. "Keep guessing, lover-boy."
Tony's eyebrows raised, clearly enjoying the challenge and the nickname. "Let's see..." he said, his face stern with faux concentration. "You strike me as a Jay. Or a Phil." He watched Y/N's expression closely, trying to see if there was any hint he was on the right track.
Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Nice try, but you're way off. Guess again."
A small sigh came from Tony. "Dammit. I thought I almost had it," he said, feigning playful disappointment. "Okay, how about...Cameron? Or Mitchell?"
Y/N shook his head once more. "Nope. Not even close."
Tony leaned in closer, his smile turning into a small smirk. "Alright, I give up. What's your name, mystery man?"
Y/N also leaned in, relenting at Tony's surrender. "It's Y/N," he half-whispered. "But I did enjoy you guessing."
A genuine smile found itself on Tony's face. "Y/N, huh? I like it – it suits you." He raised his beer in a small toast. "To new friends, and to keeping things interesting."
Y/N clinked his margarita with Tony's brown beer bottle. "To new friends," he repeated.
"So," Tony said, taking another sip of his bottle. "Tell me more about yourself."
------------------------------------
Tony and Y/N talked for what seemed like hours, the passage of time becoming irrelevant to them. Y/N went on an extended rant about his ex-boyfriend, Tony listening intently, which Y/N very much appreciated. Tony in turn told Y/N about Avengers and Stark Industries business. Y/N tried hard to understand Tony's talks on logistics, all for the sake of how Tony's eyes lit up with interest when talking about the nitty-gritty of his company.
After I while, their conversation started dwindling down. The initial flirtiness settled down to a comfortable silence. The buzz from the alcohol had faded into a pleasant comfort that made Y/N feel warm inside. Y/N looked around the bar, noticing how the crowded place had thinned out. "Looks like we cleared the place out, huh?"
Tony set his beer bottle down, stretching his arms. "Guess we did. Time flies when you have fun. Or when you're with a cute person."
A warmth covered Y/N's face red. "It's been nice talking to you, Tony." He checked the time on his phone, eyes widening when he saw the time. "It's getting quite late. Me and Sal...where is that girl anyways?" Sal's entire existence completely slipped from Y/N's mind.
"Looks like Cap and your friend are hitting it off quite well." Y/N glanced towards the booth Steve was sitting in. There was very much indeed Sal chatting up a storm with Captain America. What surprised Y/N the most was that Steve actually enjoyed talking to her? He nodded, smile bright and charming as Sal's mouth moved continuously.
"Huh," Y/N mused. He looked towards Tony once more. Y/N wasn't quite sure how but Tony looked even more attractive since the last time he looked.
"I think it's time for us to call it a night, Y/N," Tony said, his voice slightly disappointed. Y/N also found himself unhappy as well. "Though, I'd like for us to see each other again. For margaritas or beer – or something stronger if you prefer." He pulled a sleek black business card from his pocket and handed it to Y/N.
"I'll take you up on that, Tony," Y/N replied, pocketing the card. Y/N stared softly at Tony, feeling a fluttery feeling in his chest. He noticed the closeness between them on the bar chairs.
Y/N hesitated for a brief moment, his mind racing with both excitement and nerves. The temptation to close the gap between them was overwhelming, and he could feel himself gravitating towards Tony.
Tony's gaze flickered towards Y/N's lips, seemingly understanding his intentions. Y/N felt a surge of confidence rush through him. He wanted this, and he knew damn well Tony did too. Without thinking further, Y/N closed the space between him and Tony, lips connecting in an intimate kiss.
Their lips started slowly at first – tentative as if testing the waters. But then Tony responded, pressing back with a gentle ferocity that made Y/N's stomach flutter. The kiss was slow and exploratory, full of curiosity and intrigue.
Y/N's eyes closed as he felt himself melt into Tony's touch. His hands found their way towards Tony's shoulders, linking them around and slightly grazing the fabric of his suit. Y/N could feel Tony's hands lightly caressing his waist, sending tingles around his entire body.
When they both pulled away, Y/N's eyes fluttered open and met Tony's, a mixture of surprise and fluster playing around both of their smiles.
"Wow," Y/N said, breathless. "That was unexpected."
"Yeah," Tony responded, sounding winded himself. "I definitely want to see you again now."
------------------------------------
Tony and Steve insisted on driving Y/N and Sal home, however, Y/N protested heavily against it. Sal was definitely on board with the idea but was drowned out by Y/N's persistent opposition.
After saying their goodbyes to the two Avengers, Y/N and Sal started on home. "So...," she began, sporting a toothy smile.
Y/N reciprocated her wide grin. "We'll debrief tomorrow."
FIN
A/N: Catch the Modern Family names 😼 Hope you enjoyed it!
peter parker x avenger!reader who can speak to flowers and plants, EXCEPT peter parker is oblivious to the way flowers just seem to grow at his feet and how daisies just lean towards him every time he smiles at r, and when r starts giving everyone in the compound flowers from their hand with a shimmering smile, peter can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t been given one yet, and why his heart seems to hurt when r spends a little bit too much time in thor’s arms.
— 🏄🏻♀️
ughhh this was such a cute, fluffy req and i ended up turning it into a mess of angst and insecurities and isabella madrigal but thank u 🏄🏻♀️ for sending this in! maybe i'll make some happier follow ups?
𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬
peter parker x plant powered! reader
summary: you feel useless; you grow flowers while the other avengers fight battles. peter sees so much more in you, but it seems like you only have eyes for thor.
w/c: 3.0k
notes: gn! reader, angst w/ a happy ending, insecurities (feeling inadequate/reduced to looks/underestimated, etc.), jealous!peter, bestie!thor, flower symbolism that i spent a long time researching and i'm hoping it's accurate
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
being a superpowered avenger with a crush on another superpowered avenger while living in a multimillion-dollar compound that had its own walk-in ice cream fridge was pretty damn awesome. the only thing that could ruin the experience is if your aforementioned superpowers were absolutely useless and thus subject to constant (yet creative) mockery.
(hint: your aforementioned superpower was, in fact, stupid and ridiculed.
“i feel stupid and ridiculed,” you huffed dejectedly. you and thor were sitting in front of a beautiful picnic spread complete with cucumber finger sandwiches and flasks of asgardian liquor.
“it is alright, midgardian. my brother, loki, is also stupid and ridiculed, but he is a god.” thor paused. “well, you are not a god, but you are—what is it that you little ones say these days? ah, you are W.”
you chuckled sadly, digging your toes into the soft tufts of grass that had sprouted when you’d laid down your picnic blanket. you were grateful for your gift, you really were, but compared to earth’s most powerful, dangerous, and influential people (and also aliens and gods), you were more like a glorified family pet.
“you contribute greatly to the avenging family,” thor reassured, placing one large hand on your shoulder with unintentionally strong force. you felt your body tilt under his strength. you sighed; you must’ve voiced your thoughts out loud.
“if by contribute, you mean reviving sam’s succulents every two months and supplying tony with emergency flower bouquets when he’s upset pepper, then yeah, i guess.”
“do not distress! you are also capable of growing poisonous mushrooms! my brother, loki, enjoys them. they are cute but deadly, like him. and you are sometimes an exterminator! the venus flytrap you gifted me remains in my asgardian throne room. it is very effective. i have not seen a single fly since.”
“that’s because there are no flies in asgard, thor.”
thor patted you on the back twice, forcing you to bend forward with each heavy-handed tap. you looked up at him, watching the man with long, golden hair and piercing eyes look down on you sympathetically. despite him being literally all-powerful and worthy of wielding a crazy magical thunder hammer, you had formed an unexpected bond with thor.
“you know, there was a time in my life when i was unsure of if i was worthy of mjolnir. i only played video games and drank asgardian hard lemonade. however, just because you may not see your worth at the moment does not mean it is not there. i was still as worthy and devilishly handsome. i just needed to shower.” thor looked up at the sky wistfully.
you smiled fondly, recalling the old pictures of thor with a beer belly and untamed beard. even when the team had poked fun at his ragged appearance, thor knew it was superficial and not a determinant of his character. the jokes were not a determinant of your worth or importance.
“thank you, thor.” your eyes crinkled and you blinked back your emotions, never having felt so understood. you looked shyly at your toes, admiring how the grass swayed and danced to the beat of your heart. “i never expected to relate to you so much.”
thor laughed heartily, slinging an arm around your shoulder and for the third time, crushing you with his inhuman strength. he pulled you close to his side, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the comforting pressure that grounded you.
unbeknownst to the two of you, a sneaky and jealous spider had come searching for you with a certain question in mind. peter knew how much you enjoyed spending days rooted in nature and connecting with your element, so after searching the compound, he figured you’d be in your favorite spot.
but when he reached the rolling bluff at the edge of the compound property, his heart sank at the sight of you and thor cuddled up on a romantic outdoor lunch. and when you pointed to something and giggled, followed by thor pressing a sweet kiss to your head, peter’s heart fully shattered. he left wordlessly, dropping the stop ‘n shop bouquet. it was pointless; you could grow your own flowers anyway.
“orange chrysanthemums,” you nodded towards the small patch you’d summoned, “for you. they symbolize friendship and clarity of mind. thank you, thor, for being here for me and allowing me to see my worth.”
thor gasped with childish delight. “the young spiderling bestowed upon me incredible knowledge the other day!” with deft fingers, thor plucked the flowers by their stems and wove them into a haphazard flower crown. “the five-minute crafts ‘tube film is truly revolutionary.”
“you’re a genius!” you squealed, jumping to your feet and giving thor a hug which ended up being you squishing his head into your torso. “how come i’ve never thought to make flower crowns before?”
the rest of the day was spent closer to the main compound grounds, lounging in the sun with thor as you flipped through a farmer’s almanac for flower meanings and growing them. thor proved to be a talented flower crown crafter, weaving intricate patterns and structures with flower steams and leafy vines. a couple of your teammates stopped to say hello, but nobody was particularly interested in your mindless, trivial afternoon activity. they had more pressing meetings and missions, after all.
“so,” tony said, walking around the counter to set down a luscious chocolate cake that he’d custom ordered on the dining table. “i know we just got back from a mission and two of our agents are in like, critical condition, but that’s booooring. let’s think halloween costumes,” tony announced, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “i was thinking the madrigal family; like, i’m obviously the house, since you’re all living on my compound and in my tower, etcetera… pepper can be pepa—duh—also because she’s always stressed… ooo, we could loop strange in and have him be bruno; plus, nobody likes him anyway so it fits…”
you and thor entered the dining room giggling maniacally, holding your completed flower crowns behind your back. thor was on his tippy toes, pretending to sneak around silently, as you tried (and failed) to stifle your chortles. when you came into view of the entire team sitting around the table with tony rambling about animated movies, the two of you silenced.
tony pointed at you excitedly. “perfect timing! you can be isabella, the one that’s really boring and makes all the eldest daughters cry because they relate to trying too hard but never being enough.” tony grinned proudly. “oh, and you both do the whole flowers thing, so that works.”
the air froze momentarily as you furrowed your brows, laughing breathily in disbelief. the table of avengers—tony, bruce, wanda, natasha, and steve—didn’t even notice. peter, lounging nearby, was the only one who seemed to have noticed your reaction.
“but has anyone watched she-ra?” wanda interjected. “i could totally see perfuma. she’s like this princess that… talks to plants or something.”
bruce raised a finger as if he’d just had a eureka moment. “snow white! doesn’t she grow flowers?”
natasha slapped her forehead. “she picks flowers to distract her from the executioner sent by the evil queen, duh.”
as natasha and bruce bickered about the magical limits of the snow white universe and wanda and steve argued over the coolest character in she-ra, peter just sat there, disengaged in conversation, watching as thor bent down to whisper something in your ear. you nodded, moving away from him, and peter jumped from his seat at the opportunity to catch you alone.
you caught peter’s eye and he smiled nervously at you, wondering if you intended to approach him first. instead, you ungracefully scrubbed at your eyes with your arm, presumably to wipe away tears, and then ran off, the sound of your footsteps bouncing off the empty hallway.
peter shuffled uncomfortably. the person he liked took one look at him, started crying, and then literally ran away from him. way to go, romeo.
“what happened to flower power?” tony stopped his brainstorming at the sound of a sob followed by the meek closing of a door. “are they like, okay?”
“they didn’t even stay for cake,” steve worried. “and it’s chocolate.”
peter cracked his knuckles, a habit he’d picked up whenever he was anxious. he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another barrage of theories.
“maybe they were weeding the lawn and got tired?”
“nah, we have a robotic gardner for that-”
“did sam land in one of the flowerbeds again?”
“sam’s not even here right now-”
“stung by a bee?”
“foot run over by a tractor?”
“found a corpse in the fertilizer-”
“ENOUGH!” thor boomed, his usual joviality turned into fuming eyes and deep, angry breaths. “you midgardians are pathetically shallow-minded and incompetent. was it not evident that your hapless conversation was—how do you midgardians say it—creating uncomfortable energy in the studio?”
the table of avengers looked at thor, confused.
thor moved his hands from behind his back and displayed them. on his arms hung the flower crowns you and thor had spent all afternoon creating. thor carefully laid them on the table, smoothing out any wrinkles in the petals and fluffing the leaves.
“in asgard, we revere nature and its gifts. flowers, plants, trees: they are sacred. we could not breathe, nor eat, nor survive or exist without greenery—without powers like theirs. you foolish midgardians… have you not considered the unlimited power that your superfriend wields? the power of life, creation, and growth. to manipulate the natural land, which is what holds up this very building and the entirety of human creation.” thor sighed, shaking his head like he was scolding a classroom of silly kindergarteners.
thor pointed to the flower crowns, distributing them to the person they were meant for.
“for tony: dark, blood orange tiger lilies and golden yellow jasmines to represent wealth, pride, and elegance”
“for bruce: a circlet of green to celebrate the part of him that he tries to hide. green hellebore and envy zinnia, symbolizing peace, serenity, and endurance.
“for wanda: a crown of purple, made of verbena, crocus, and clematis. to attract butterflies and honor her youthfulness, creativity, and limitless capability.
“for natasha: white and yellow, because she deserves softness; chamomile for her patience in adversity, black-eyed susans for her sense of justice, and edelweiss, for her courage and devotion.”
there was only one more crown on the table, but two avengers left. red, white, and blue flowers—it was clearly meant for steve.
“they put their heart into these, and for steve especially. bluebell, for his humility. white gladiolus, for his integrity and strength. finally, red nasturtium, which they spent hours searching for, to represent his victory and patriotism.”
thor watched as each avenger admired their respective crown before noticing peter, hands empty, standing in the corner looking despondent. thor bit back a knowing smile, approached the frowning boy, and beckoned him closer. peter grimaced as he caught sight of thor’s subtle amusement, scoffing bitterly. was the god here to rub it in further; that he’d won over the object of peter’s affection who he’d been pining over for months?
“they are in their room,” thor whispered loudly. “they will probably want to see you, small and short arachnid child.”
peter elected not to ignore thor’s passive-aggressive insults and nodded determinedly, making his way to your door with his mind racing. thor had said you’d wanted to see him, yet you’d barely acknowledged him and hadn’t bothered making him a crown. he’d be fine with sticks hot glued together, if it meant you’d thought of him. which, he supposed, you hadn’t.
he didn’t get the chance to knock before your door swung open and you waved him inside. “sorry i got all dramatic back there,” you sniffed. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”
“what? you didn’t- no, what everyone was saying was just… wrong. cruel. you’re- well, you’re incredible.” peter cracked his knuckles, the bones popping loudly and drawing your attention. he shook his hands out and looked at you bashfully. “sorry. nervous habit.”
“don’t be nervous,” you smiled sadly. “i’m harmless. literally.”
“y’know, thor showed us those crowns you made. i thought they were really cool, really beautiful.” peter hesitated. “beautiful like you. a-and i don’t want to push anything, ‘cause i know you’re upset and stuff, but i just… thought you should know.”
you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and let out a dark chuckle. “yeah, they are quite pretty. thanks for saying that. i get it a lot, but it’s nice to hear it from- from you.”
“i hope you know that beauty isn’t all there is to you. you’re thoughtful—thor explained all the meanings behind the flowers and you even matched the colors up for everyone… you’re crazy smart—you read a farmer’s almanac and i don’t know anyone as good as biology as you; i suck at bio. and you’re really, really strong.”
you looked up at peter, bewildered.
peter’s face fell when he saw your expression of confusion. how could you not see your own power and endurance? timidly, he stepped forward until his chest was a foot from yours and brought his hand up to straighten your tightened eyebrows.
“don’t look at me like that. don’t look at me like you can’t comprehend your own capability.” peter’s thumb traced down your face—starting at your eyebrows, down to your eyes, where he wiped the remnants of your tears, gently circling over the curves of your cheeks, down to your jawline and trailing to your chin, where he took it between two fingers and tilted your face upwards so he could admire you properly.
“the rest of the team might make jokes, but they’re being close-minded. they talked about isabella, right? well, she grew these stems that encircled the entire house; so strong that they could carry both her and mirabel and it was like they were flying, y’know? a-and perfuma was like, a warrior princess that could choke people out with her vines and whipped them unconscious and could stab people with thorns—i’m kidding, it’s a kid’s animated series. but you get the point. there are possibilities, and just because you can create beautiful, delicate masterpieces doesn’t mean you’re shallow and fragile.”
as peter rambled, you had to bite your lip to stop the beam that was fighting to escape. you wanted him to talk forever, and you were scared that if you looked like you felt better, he’d stop with his words. admittedly, you loved the praise. but you loved the sound of peter’s voice and his loving caress and the way he seemed to believe in you—maybe even more so than yourself.
“peter,” you whispered hoarsely, letting yourself smile. “thank you, peter.”
peter swallowed thickly, having not thought ahead to what would happen after he spilled his guts out about his admiration of you. “uh, you’re welcome?” his voice cracked embarrassingly.
you gave no reaction. instead, your eyes seemed to soften. “i’m sorry i didn’t make a crown for you. i didn’t mean for it to seem like- like i didn’t care.”
peter’s eyes flickered across your face, looking for any sign of a lie. he didn’t want you to reassure you out of pity or because you felt obligated to after he’d complimented you. he cracked his knuckles, feeling the confidence he’d exuded a minute ago begin to die.
you grabbed his hands and forced his fingers to unclench from his palms, your own fingers running over his skin. your fingers were calloused from the time you spent outdoors, tending to your variety of plants, and it only heightened his belief that you were more than just pretty, that you were just as durable and strong.
“i didn’t know what flowers to use,” you said lowly, unable to meet his eye. “‘cause red roses are cliché; well, roses in general, and tulips and lilies have been overused, and baby’s breath seemed kind of bridesmaid-y, and- and carnations remind me of mother’s day, and you’re not my mother, so i just-”
“hey, it’s okay,” peter reassured. “i won’t lie, i was worried at first. i thought you just completely forgot about me, which is ouch. but it means a lot that you cared… so much.”
you squeezed his hands tighter. peter felt something tickle the fleshy inside of his palms and looked down curiously. slowly, your hands moved away from his and he watched in amazement as little buds began sprouting from your hands and falling as they made their way into full bloom.
daisies and their stray petals littered the floor beneath him, and peter tried his best not to move in fear of crushing one of the flowers. you looked equally surprised, but quickly caught your bearings, and when peter looked back up at you, you were holding a little bouquet of misshapen, droopy daises with a shy smile.
“so you don’t crack your knuckles,” you explained. “and because they represent new beginnings and, um, true love.”
peter’s face contorted as he took the flowers from you, fingers brushing over yours. you examined peter’s expression intensely, heartbeat skipping as you followed the way his face seemed to twist and morph into something similar to disgust.
but when peter held the daisies up to his nose and made a big show of smelling them, bringing them down from his face to reveal a huge, bright grin, you allowed yourself to indulge in one of your own.
“i take it you like it?” you muttered, shuffling closer as petals shifted beneath your shoes.
peter nodded, wrapping the arm that held his flowers around your back to pull you even closer. it was like you could feel the warmth emanating off him. he was like sun.
“i like it a lot. not as much as i like you, though.”
“i gave you a gift, didn’t i?” you breathed, eyes bright with anticipation. “do i get anything in return?”
peter hummed. “well, what would you like?”
you rolled your eyes at his game. “surprise me.”
neither of you was surprised when your lips met, initially brushing against each other like hesitant spring sprouts, before exploding into colorful, passionate blooms.
— heres the first chapter to this story !! :D hope you like it !! this is a slight introduction to the main thing ,, though you dont really meet the cons yet :) thats in the next chapter !
＜ two , three , four , five ＞
wheels rolling against the rough road, small bumps along the way, music blared from the car. windows were rolled down, and wind blowing harshly in the person's face; yet, they paid no mind to it, only jamming out to the song playing. lips singing the lyrics to the song, melodies flying through the air. the ocean waves crashed at the shore below them, before reeling back into the mass water.
a smile adorned the person's lips, cheeks dark from the cold chill of the breeze. the sun, however, blared high in the sky; its rays beaming down onto their (s/c) skin. excitement ran through their veins, blood hot and filled with joy.
winding around the mountain side, they slowed to a stop. in the distance was the beach house they had rented; a getaway from their miserable job. day and night they were worked to the bone, and recently, they just needed a break. it was difficult, putting up fake smiles and small waves to crowds. having to be forced to work with those who do nothing but fill you with rage.
ignoring the intrusive thoughts, the person drove down the smooth road. seagulls called through the air, communicating with one another in the open breeze. the smell of salt drifted through the air, filling their nose with the scent.
the car pulled in the driveway, blue coat shimmering against the sun's blaze. the car beeped as it was locked, said person stepping out. they grabbed the suitcase from within, carrying it inside as they entered the living room. blue and white adorned the interior, cushions clouding the couches and light baby blue island in the kitchen. it felt comfortable here, as though they could stay here forever and not have to worry about a thing.
they set their suitcase down on the couch, fishing out their swimsuit from within. they'll put everything away later, but for now, they only wished to swim. after all, they did get a spot close to the beach for a reason.
walking to the bathroom nearby, they quickly put their bathing suit on. they had also smeered sunscreen on their skin, walking out and grabbing their beach bag that was already packed and ready. strolling towards their back door, they opened the slide door, walking out in the warm weather. the sun already felt hot as they stood under its gaze, flames blazing from afar.
they walked along the sandy shore, making quick work to find the perfect spot so they could set their stuff down. taking out a towel, they laid it down on the sand, before setting their bag to the side. they fished out their sunglasses, putting them on so the sun wouldnt burn their eyeballs. the ocean moved in and out, waves splashing against little kids.
people were running along the shore, screaming with laughter, others splashing around in the water as they played games or just swam. the saltiness of the ocean filled their senses, convincing them to leave their spot and venture into the ocean.
cold water splashed against their skin, chilling them to the bone as they shivered, trying to work through the coldness to get further in the water. though it only got colder, and finally getting used to it, they started to swim out from the shore and into the vast sea.
swimming and looking into the clear sea, they started to see a strange object. as they got farther out, the clearer the thing got. it seemed to be purple, and it looked as though it was some sort of strange building. it sent a chill through their spine, how the structure was strangely different from anything human. of course, though, it was probably a building for marine biologists. that made sense, other then thinking irrationally.
however, they couldn't stop the feeling they got, as though something was very wrong. their breathe hitched when they saw something swimming from the building, as though it was heading for them.
blood rushing through their veins, their heart plummeted against their chest as they started to swim away from whatever was nearing them. their arms hurt from how hard they were panicking, swimming away as best as they could. water rushed about them, as though they were in a fast current. they choked against the water, entering their mouth and headed towards their lungs.
a silent scream left them as they gasped and flailed about, a harsh grip caught on their foot. they tried kicking at whatever had them, but it only ended with more pain then before. they could feel the snap of their ankle, the bone cracking under the pressure. tears welded in their eyes, ready to try and call for help as best they could with their quiet voice.
though the moment they opened their mouth was the moment their vision went black, and their senses failing to help them as they fell unconscious in the deep waters.
Can you please do Herman , frank , Danny , Michael reaction to their girlfriend moaning someone else’s name in their sleep ? A fellow survivor or a killer your choice ! Bounce points if it’s nsfw but anything is good 👀
DBD Killers' Reaction to: You Moaning Someone Else's Name in Your Sleep (oops)
Character(s): Herman Carter, Frank Morrison, Danny 'Jed Olsen' Johnson, Michael Myers
words: ~2k
Danny 'Jed Olsen' Johnson:
"Frank, ugh,"
Danny wasn't exactly the jealous type.
That still didn't mean he didn't practically slit your throat right here and then.
A near unknown feeling enticed him, which wasn't shocking as he didn't precisely possess a lot formerly.
Had you forgotten about his camera roll or something?
Not only were there were some of his best work in there with the shots including you, sometimes parts of himself, and not a lot of clothing.
You knew he was special. In all honesty, how many people could you say had dominated you like Danny while making art, after all?
And he could show it all to Mr. Legion himself, if it came to it. You did look good in his shroud and nothing else, as well as bound to different objects both in private and public with thick, strong cords. Not to toot his own horn — you did that for him anyway — Danny knew his way around ropes.
It'd be a shame if they were never seen by anybody other than you two, anyway. 'Thought I'd do you a favor, Frankie. You'll never get to experience this, this and this...'
His visual memory wasn't half bad, the photos flashing in his mind. Of course, it helped that he had been there to experience everything he captured.
"Just like that," He had mandated many sinful angles and positions, picking the best ones to capture at any given opportunity. Rather than being proof of your intimacy, l they were memorabilia of intimacy but once Danny put his feet down and let everybody know how much you belonged to him, definitions only held him back.
If he could help it, it didn't really matter whatever you dreamed.
If you or your mind did persist, you'd just have to face the painful consequences.
Nothing stopped him in here, did it? You couldn't, and anyone else simply wouldn't.
He did own you, but it was better than being owned by his knife, you'd surely agree.
Michael Myers:
The term slept like a rock did apply to Michael too, only in connotation, of course. He was somewhere between asleep and awake when he heard you whine.
Were you having a nightmare?
He had them from time to time too, although he wasn't quite as reactive as you. But then again, that's how he was.
The visions must have been really out there in terms of scariness, or at least that was what Michael was inclined to believe when you grabbed onto his arm.
Fortunately, Michael knew both fear and sleep made controlling your body all too difficult, otherwise he wouldn't have taken the sudden contact too kindly.
Well, that just about turned out to be the understatement of the century.
Apparently his limb wasn't a sufficient sacrifice as he initially thought it had been, as your body seemed to take up his side now, but surely you'd stop there?
Oh how wrong he was once again.
Were you.. humping? "J-Jake," Oh, so you definitely were.
With understanding came hostility as he grabbed your shoulder, shoving you down on your back and jolting you awake which of course put an early end on to your lustful fantasy.
Your drowsy eyes met the black holes of his mask and a yelp escaped your lips. "Michael?"
While your voice had wavered saying his name, his breathing pattern was brisker than usual due to the current situation. He qas 'confronting' you, in his own manners. "What's wrong?"
Michael gave a nod which pointed upwards. You, the message was clear.
"Me? What about m—" The question was cut short as his hand had suddenly decided to explore your body down. "Michael, what are you—"
It would seem he had found the evidence he was after. Landing on your panties, his fingers came to a halt.
Soaked, just as Michael had thought. "Ah, hey—"
Try to hide as you might, you couldn't help the pathetic noise that came out of your parted lips. Even if it had been a result of surprise for the most part, a hint of arousal from your unfinished dream business could still be sensed, which must've done nothing else except encourage Michael.
His digits crept their way under your undergarment as you made no effort to stop neither them or him.
Touching you bare now, normally he'd add some more moisture to make playing with you easier, if he felt like removing his cover. Right now, though, he could feel your keen sex didn't require any help. Michael's fingertips were coated with your slickness.
Just when you could enjoy the feeling of being touched, he abandoned your sensitive spot.
"Wh- Michael, why did you stop?" You tried to obtain any explanation for the way he was acting, all the while knowing no hint was coming and it was your personal job to figure out the reason.
There was little to no reasoning on why Michael had decided to leave you hot and bothered.
You could do with a little teasing, as a small punishment. It was the fairest he had been in his whole life, to be honest, while still being a little shit.
Plus, he had already proven to both you and himself that he was the one for you, and refuting that fact with any kind of behavior had repercussions.
Herman Carter:
"Oh, Kazan!"
Herman didn't need much sleep to begin with, but he especially didn't need to hear you utter the name of another man as he got some shut-eye, no pun intended.
You did realize he had not only the means to pass an electric current through your body in more ways than one, but the will too, right? Perhaps it wasn't engraved in your memory as strongly as he had previously thought.
Being asleep or unconscious was never a excuse. You should've known there would be consequences, down to a subliminal level.
Herman considered his choice of action. Like always, he was far from being at loss about what to do about your mishap. It was more about himself, a habit, his M.O even to consider the possibilities and determine the best outcome.
He deduced you had no shame whatsoever. What would Rin, the closest thing to a friend you had in this hellish realm, would have to say to you having inappropriate visions about her grandfather?
As tempting as shocking you right up from your sweet slumber was, Herman came to another conclusion.
Discipline.
It didn't matter if you were his significant other. He had done the worst of the worst to his mentors, after all.
If you wanted anything else besides ending up as just another casualty of his madness-induced science experiments, you'd learn to conform.
Conform in this case, of course, meaning screaming his name until he was pleased with the results.
In bed and any other surface used during this, he didn't need a punishing stick or a static blast. Soon you learned the only name that was allowed to come out of your mouth was Herman's.
Thankfully, the 'treatment' was a success, as his next favorable option had included not-so-private sex in the Japanese family estate.
Frank Morrison:
Frank opened his eyes. Some gibberish noise his alert ears had picked up had stirred him awake.
His right hand went to grab his knife on instinct while half-lidded eyes sleepily scanned the surroundings, his room, to see if anything, or anyone, was out of place. The weapon was kept in a bedside drawer whenever you came over and spent time together in his bed.
When your ever-the-protector concluded that it was safe, he turned to his side and moved a lazy hand to your waist. Comfortable once more, he nearly dozed off before another sound, much more comprehensible this time, halted his drift like no other threat. "Mm, Leon."
Leon?
Frank's eyes shot open once more.
That Kennedy fuck? Rage ignited in his chest like a hot ball of flame, and it was sure as hell hotter than the fireplace downstairs, or whatever you and that dumb blonde fucking loser was doing in your imagination.
Frank's jaw tightened. Normally, he would have laughed at the irony of someone screwing a murderer in their day-to-day life and a rookie, useless, cop in their nightly dreams but it was you, and you were his. Had you forgotten which side you were on when you laid right next to your boyfriend, the murderer in question?
You were his, Frank's palm squeezed the exposed flesh it laid on, His. He'd be ecstatic to provide you with a review lesson, it'd be a reminder to who was 'the real one to touch you, the one and only one getting to actually fuck you'.
Just then, you let out another whimper, thank fuck you didn't say that name again, but nonetheless anger roused out of him once again. Frank had been administering a lot of control until now, but you were pushing it.
It took a lot out of him to no shove you on your stomach with brute strength and question you senseless, only the interrogation would have left you sore and get you killed in trials that followed.
Trials. Of course. Did he have to watch Leon around the campfire now? Frank would surely lose it if the amateur man tried to come onto you. Figuratively, of course, as he was the only one to do that literally. Maybe he could ask Danny to keep an eye on him instead.
It didn't matter if you wouldn't actually betray him for anyone else, you weren't off the hook. Verbatim, of course, as any trials with him as the killer after the incident would be nowhere near manageable with him being extra violent than anyone could be ever used to.
The worst part, at least for you, was yet to come, however. Figuring out the exact cause of his clear frustration was no easy task, as Frank's usual mood was grumpy in nature and even then, he was not exactly willing to voice the issue outright this time.
He was, however, giving you a lot of suspicious one-overs without your knowledge throughout the week, which unfortunately were no hint to you as the smiling mask more often than not covered his face.
The problem more than dawned on you when instead of what can be considered as his version of sweet nothings, he expressed something else while he took utmost advantage of Julie, Susie, and Joey gone once. "Can Leon make you feel like this?"
His hips weren't the only thing repeatedly hitting your body as his warm breath tickled the soft spot between your ear and neck. That in itself was substantial in sending chills down your spine, a satisfying result of his favorite position where he held all the power over you. "Can he? Tell me."
Even with all the added labor of taunting you, Frank was restless. He'd continue to be, until you could convince him that Frank was the only one you'd submit to.
request: can you write some with mob!bucky x best friend!reader where he makes her cry and they stop talking for awhile? please make it angsty!! [ anon ]
content warning: mob!bucky x best friend!reader, slightly insecure!reader, mob!steve x reader, slight coercion, smut (kissing, handjob), arguing, yelling, crying, heavy angst, violence, use of a gun, mention of blood and wound, eventual comfort and fluff.
"Is he still talking to her?" You ask with a huff.
"Yup," Sam responds in a bored tone, scanning the magazine in his hands.
You bounce on your heels impatiently as you stare the black door down, desperately wanting to know what's happening on the other side of it.
"Won't make time go by any faster, standing here waiting," Sam mumbles. "I'll tell him to call you when he's done."
You're in half a mind to give in and leave, but your stubbornness takes over. "No. I'll wait." Admittedly, you're on edge. When you arrived, Sam informed you that Bucky was in a meeting with a woman he hadn't seen before. Too curious and nosy for your own good, you have to find out who she is as soon as possible.
Sam sighs and is about to speak again when the black door finally opens, making you grin. The woman walks out first, and when you see her face, your smile drops.
Carmen Vienne?
Throughout law school, you were mortal enemies. It sounds juvenile, but you still hate her to this day. She works for a law firm downtown, and any time your paths cross, hell becomes hotter.
When she sees you, she raises a thin brow before smirking. "Y/L/N. How are ya?"
With an eye-roll, you look away, unable to state at her for too long without feeling nauseous.
Bucky exits the room behind her, his face lighting up when he sees you. They share a goodbye and a quick hug, to your dismay, before Carmen leaves again, making you huff.
"Really, Buck?"
"Hi, fairy," He greets you, pulling you in for a tight hug. You don't hug him back, which he immediately picks up on. "What's wrong?"
Pulling away from him, you look him up and down suspiciously before realization hits you. "You slept with her?"
Bucky smooths down his messy hair, a coy smirk pulling at him lips. "That obvious?"
You hit his shoulder, pouting. "You know how much I hate her!"
"Relax, fairy," He says, pulling you into his office and shutting the door behind you. "We didn't fuck. She just... you know, went down on me."
"I hate you," You grumble, folding your arms across your chest. "You know what a bitch she is."
"I didn't mean for it to happen," He insists, taking your hands in his. "It was supposed to just be a professional meeting, and it got a little... out of hand."
Offended, you take your hands out of his. "You're hiring her?"
He nods, making your chest ache. "Just to take a look at things, make sure everything's clean."
"What the fuck?" You step backwards. "You needed a lawyer and you went to her? What the fuck is wrong with me?"
"It isn't about that," Bucky promises. "This has nothing to do with how good of a lawyer you are-"
"Bullshit!" You cut him off curtly. "You need legal help and you didn't come to me? What am I supposed to think, James?"
"I have always told you that I will never involve you in my work," He says gravely. "I'm not risking you losing your job and likely your license for me. Carmen is already a dirty lawyer - and I have no fucking problem putting her career and life at risk." His eyes soften and he steps forward, resting his hands on your shoulders. "I have never, and I will never put you at risk."
Letting out a deep breath, you frown. "She didn't have to suck your dick."
He snorts, rubbing his face. "Oh, God. I swear to you, fairy, I didn't plan on that happening. Love me?"
You still aren't completely happy with him, but you'll get your revenge. "Love you."
"And I love you more," Bucky replies, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the top of your head. "Lunch?"
"Yes, please," You mumble against his chest. "Somewhere expensive, because you're a dick."
He chuckles, stroking you back. "You got it, fairy."
While he leads you out the building, you pull out your phone, making sure he can't see your screen as you respond to Steve Rogers' text.
sorry for the late reply. dinner sounds good. pick me up at 8? x
It feels surreal to be sitting next to the man Bucky has told you countless times to never go anywhere near, but here you are.
"I'm so glad you finally realized how magical the two of us could be together," Steve says softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "You've been stringing me along for so long."
The dimly lit lounge is a little more intimate than you would've liked, but you're sure that more than one of Bucky's associates have seen you with Steve, which is exactly what you were banking on.
"Or maybe," You begin, playing with the straw in your drink. "I just ran out of ways to say no."
He chuckles, his eyes flickering down to your lips. "You know, it's funny. All this time, I've been begging for a chance to get you alone, and now that I finally have, I have no fuckin' idea what to say."
"So don't say anything," You tell him softly, moving a little closer. "Just kiss me."
Feeling like the cat that got the cream, Steve wastes no time and immediately places his lips on yours. The kiss is deep and slow, and his tongue pokes into your mouth as he cups your throat and pulls you closer. He takes your hand and places it on his boner, making you gasp.
Your heart races as he stuffs your hand down his pants and groans into your mouth, keeping his arm around your waist.
"That's it, baby," Steve mutters against your lips. "Make me feel good, that's a good girl."
You open your eyes and look over to the bar. There, you see one of Bucky's men, Peter, with his observant gaze on you. The booth you're in is dark, but it's evident that Peter can see your hand moving up and down in Steve's pants. It's a given fact that he'll immediately report this to Bucky - which is exactly what you want.
If he's gonna screw around with your worst enemy, you'll do the same with his.
"Keep going," Steve moans as you jerk him off, his cock twitching in your hand. "Fuck, baby, that's it."
Peter turns and leaves the lounge, making you smirk to yourself. You continue stroking Steve's dick until he sucks in a gasp and shudders, before his cum shoots into your palm.
"Oh, shit," He growls against your neck. "Cumming so fucking hard for you, baby."
You wipe the residue onto his boxers and pull out your hand. He gives you another kiss but you pull away before it can get intense.
"Let's get out of here," Steve mutters, zipping up his pants.
"Actually, I'm gonna head home," You tell him shortly as you stand up. "Thanks for dinner."
He looks baffled as you walk away, and a slight pit of regret builds up in your stomach as you realize what you just did.
Fuck. Bucky's gonna kill you.
The next day, you leave work and go straight to Bucky's office. He sent you a text telling you to come see him and you know that shit is about to go down.
As you walk down the corridor, his men have their eyes on you, each of them staring at you with slight fear. They aren't scared of you, though- they're scared for you, because Peter Parker has a big mouth than runs on its own accord. Your heart races the closer you get to his office, but you know that you only brought this on yourself. Once you get to the door, you slowly push it open a few inches.
"Come in, Y/N," Bucky calls out, knowing that you're the only person in town who'd ever dare to walk into his office without knocking.
You push the door fully open and step in, keeping yourself calm with deep breaths. This will be fine. He'll be a little angry, but then you'll explain why you did it, causing him to apologize, and all will be well.
Bucky is sitting at his desk, wearing a black button-up shirt. His sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and a concentrated look of anger dwells on his face. He says nothing as you walk over, standing behind the chair opposite him.
"Hi, Buck," You mumble, feeling your heart begin to race.
"All I need," He begins, his voice low and hard. "Is for you to tell me that he was lying."
You don't think he's ever been stoic towards you, and that makes you feel sick. "What are you talking about, Bu-"
He cuts you off by suddenly slamming his hands on the desk and standing up, a deathly glare in his eyes. "Don't you fucking play dumb with me now, fairy. Tell me that Peter was lying through his teeth about what he saw so I can rip his tongue out."
"Bucky," You breathe out, eyes wide. "You have to understand-"
"Tell me he was lying," He utters, his hands clenching into fists on his desk. "Tell me that you didn't have dinner with that bastard last night."
Deciding to hold your ground, and deciding that you have nothing to be afraid of, you straighten up and fold your arms across your chest. "Did Pete mention that I had my hand down Steve's pants, too? Or did he give you the PG version?"
You didn't think it was possible, but the anger on Bucky's face only intensifies. "That isn't funny," He mutters through gritted teeth.
"I'm not joking," You say with a shrug. "You can ask Peter if you want. I'm sure he enjoyed the show."
"What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?" Bucky asks you, seething.
"You are!" You exclaim. "How is it fair that it's one rule for you and another for me?"
"What are you talking about?" He yells.
"It's okay for you to fuck around with Carmen but I can't do the same with Steve?" You shout back, throwing up your hands. "Tell me how that's fair, James!"
"There's a big fucking difference between me getting involved with some bitch you don't like, and you getting involved with that vile motherfucker," Bucky claims gravely. "Do you realize how much danger you put yourself in?"
"Oh please, it was dinner and I'm a grown woman," You respond dryly with an eye roll.
"And he's a monster, Y/N," He tells you with fury in his tone. "How fucking dare you get involved with him after I've spent all these years protecting you from him?"
"How dare I? He didn't hurt me!" You exclaim. "I'm fine, aren't I?"
"He could have," Bucky insists furiously. "You have no idea what that prick is capable of. You think you're safe around men like me just because I've never hurt you? You are not fucking immune to becoming just another victim, Y/N."
"I can look after myself!" You insist sternly.
"No, you fucking can't!" He booms, hitting the desk again. "You're so stupid, you know that?"
Your heart clenches at his words and you take a step back. "Fuck you," You whisper, every inch of your skin feeling lit up with red-hot fear. Fear that Bucky's love for you is dying.
"I've told you time and time again not to go near him," He shouts. "Are you that fucking needy for attention that the second I give mine to someone else, you go looking for it from the first guy that offers you some?"
"Stop!" You cringe, looking down.
"Screwing around with him like a fucking slut," He rages, taking you aback. "You know how fucking embarrassing that is for me?"
You purse your lips together as your eyes well up with tears. This is it. He hates you. His love is dead.
"No, Y/N," Bucky mutters coldly. "You can't just cry your way out of this like you always do. Get a fucking grip and take some responsibility for once."
A weak whimpers leaves your mouth before you quickly turn and run out of the office, the tears hot as they stream down your face. On your way out, you pass Sam and Peter. Peter gives you a regretful look but you speed past him, too focused on your hurting heart to be angry at him right now.
Two weeks. Two entire fucking weeks pass with no communication between you and Bucky.
You don't think you've ever spent 14 consecutive nights in your own bed without Bucky spooning you, and you absolutely hate it. It feels lonely to the point where it physically hurts.
None of your other friends can fill the gap he left. They don't know you like he does. They don't care about you like he does. They don't love you nearly as much as he does.
A part of you regrets the date with Steve, but another part of you knows that it truly was unfair for Bucky to have double standards. You couldn't let him get away it.
His words echo in your head every single day.
You're so stupid, you know that?
Fucking slut.
Take some responsibility for once.
What a fucking prick. God, you miss him.
A strange man has been standing across the street from your apartment. You aren't sure when he first arrived, but you noticed him just over a week ago. At first, you thought he was there to smoke - but now that he has spent seven nights in a row staring at your building, you realize there's something sinister at play.
When you look out the window and see him there again, you let out a groan. You know it's your apartment he's staking out - he's even followed you home from work, though you only noticed that earlier on today when you dropped your phone and had to turn around to pick it up. Who knows how long he's been tracking you?
You don't want to admit it, but you know it's your fault: you got involved with Steve Rogers, and now you're facing the consequences. He's probably keeping an eye on you to make sure you aren't with any other men - God knows how possessive men like him are. A small part of you fears that he's planning on killing you for blocking his phone number, which is why you decide to take a stance.
This is the mess you made. It's time for you to clean it up.
Grabbing the small gun Bucky insisted you keep in your bedside table, you put it into your purse and make your way outside. Once there, you see the man looking away as though to act casual and like he hasn't been stalking you.
You cross the road, keeping an eye out for any witnesses that may be around, before standing in front of him. He frowns, seemingly surprised by your presence.
"What do you want?" He asks you gruffly, raising a brow.
"Stay the fuck away from me," You utter lowly, keeping your hand wrapped around your gun in your bag. "And tell whichever coward sent you to come kill me himself."
It's also possible that one of Bucky's many other enemies are attempting to take you hostage as leverage, and you'd be damned if you prove Bucky right and aren't able to protect yourself.
When the man says nothing, you huff and push past him, planning to make your way to your friend's house a few blocks away just in case you really aren't able to protect yourself. Before you can get far, though, he grabs your arm and pulls you back. You immediately pull out the gun and shoot him in the foot, making him fall to the ground with a loud cry.
"You crazy bitch!" He yells, clinging to his foot. "Why the fuck would you do that?"
"I told you to stay away from me!" You shout, thankful for the silencer on the gun while praying nobody walks past. "Who sent you, huh?"
"Crazy fucking bitch," He whimpers, rocking back and forth.
You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head. "Don't fuck with me, alright? Do you know the name James Barnes? If I see you, or any of your friends, standing outside my home again, he will kill you - and that's only if I don't do it myself. Do you understand me?"
"Barnes is the one that fucking sent me," He reveals with a groan, his hands covered in blood. "He told me to keep an eye on you. I wasn't sent to hurt you."
His words take you aback. Oh.
"Shit," You whisper, quickly putting away your gun. "Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. I'm sorry. Come on; let's get you to the hospital. Shit."
Twenty minutes later, you're in the waiting area while Richard gets his foot fixed up.
"Come on," You grumble as the vending machine spits out your bill for the seventh time. "Just take my money and feed me, damn it."
"What have I told you about these shitty snacks?" A familiar voice rings out from behind you, making you jump. His ring-clad hand reaches out and he scans his phone on the card machine, paying for your shitty snack.
You lean down to pick up the candy bar before turning back to him. "Why buy it for me, then?"
Bucky lets out a sigh. "Because you always get what you want, anyway. And I like being the one who gets you what you want."
"Yeah, sure seems like it," You mutter bitterly, pushing past him. "Two fucking weeks, Buck."
"You blocked my number," He says, turning around to follow you over to the seats. "Do you realize how fucking insane that made me?"
"And you didn't attempt to contact me at all!" You exclaim stubbornly.
"Because I knew you were angry at me," Bucky claims as you sit down. "And frankly, I was fucking angry at you, too."
"So why send Richard to watch over me?" You ask with a raised brow.
He furrows his brows at you. "What? Just because I'm angry at you, I shouldn't care about your wellbeing?"
"Oh, please," You scoff. "You were just watching me to see if I went on any more dates with Steve."
Bucky rubs his face, exasperated. "I don't wanna argue with you about this any more, Y/N. Can you just admit that what you did was reckless?"
Letting out a long sigh, you can't help but nod. "I guess it was a little reckless. Can you admit that sleeping with that bitch Carmen was a bad friend move that hurt me deeply?"
He sits down next to you, resting his arm on the back of your seat. "I'm sorry, fairy. I should've been more aware of your feelings. I promise, I'm not seeing her again. And I hired a different lawyer."
"And?" You press expectantly.
"And... I love you?" He offers, before trying to wrap his arm around you.
You move a seat away from him, frowning. "You said some really horrible things to me, Buck."
He winces at the memory, a pained look growing on his face. "I am so, so sorry, fairy. I was angry, and I said things that I should never have said. Not to you. I didn't mean a single one of them- I was just pissed off, and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have done that. The thought of you being in danger drove me crazy, baby. I can't handle the thought of you getting hurt."
You let out a shaky breath, looking down at the ground. "Seeing you with Carmen, I just... I realized that I'm gonna lose you one day, and that terrified me. I guess I just wanted to see if you were scared of losing me, too."
Bucky frowns, immediately moving to the seat next to you. "Woah, woah, woah, fairy, what's all this talk about losing each other, huh? You know you're never losing me, ever. And you know I'd chain you to a fucking radiator if you ever tried to leave me."
You laugh softly, shaking your head. "I just didn't like seeing you with her."
He pulls you into his arms, rocking you gently. "How about we stop seeing other people, hmm? Just for a little while?"
His words put you on edge. "What do you mean, Buck?" You ask him meekly.
"I mean, our last sexual escapades landed poor Richard in the emergency room," He says teasingly, before leaning closer to you. "So, how about we just stick with each other for a bit? I missed you like fuck this past fortnight. I never wanna do this life shit without you again."
Feeling warm in his embrace, you snuggle closer to him and smile. "That sounds good, Bucky."
"Yeah?" He asks, holding you tighter. "Just you and me?"
"Just you and me," You repeat with a whisper, wrapping your pinky around his.
He kisses your forehead, and then your nose, and then the corner of your mouth, lighting you up with the joy you've been missing out on for too long. "I love you, fairy," Bucky mumbles, stroking your cheek. "You're more important to me than anyone else in this world."
Opening up the candy bar, you offer him the first bite which he reluctantly takes. Taking a bite after him, you let the sweet chocolate relax you.
You rest your head on his chest, the two of you staying like that while you wait for Richard to be wheeled out of surgery. All is well.
mob!bucky masterlist
hi! i no longer have a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i post 🥰
also, if you are willing and able, i would appreciate if you bought me a kofi - even the smallest of donations helps me out so much! ❤
so...it's been a while 😅 I'm sorry for that I've just had no inspiration to write for a while but I'm back and I thought I'd start off with some self indulgent Oni fluff
- So first off Id like to think that itto would be completely onboard and supportive with you being asexual.
- it really wouldn't bother him as itto believes that a strong bond is better than intimacy
- be prepared for plenty of cuddles tho. This Oni is such a big softie that you know he'd just cling on to you whenever he has the chance
- Lots of dates around Inazuma. Wether that be chilling in the centre of Ritou or a lunch out with the gang on Yashiori Island
- Arataki will not hesitate to give you lots of kisses whenever you ask for one or if he asks to kiss you. And I mean how could you say no to his cute face 🥺
- in the end you know that Itto will love you unconditionally and would always keep you safe
Hey hey hey so if you follow me and play genshin impact can you help me out with the chi of guyun quest I've left it for a while lol and now I need those primos (I've been trying to pull for kazuha and lost the 50/50 T~T) so if you could help I'd be much appreciated
Also this is me if you want to find me and help take down those annoying ruin guards💕
Michael, Jason, Tommy, and Lester: S/O who does graveyard shifts. How do they feel about it? What if something happens to S/O while they try to get home/are on work? Thank you i love u
Oh FUCK yes this is perfect 💕
Also sorry for not writing anything new in a while I'll try to get back on top of that😅
Michael,Jason,Tommy and Lester with a graveyard s/o
Jason:
Actually this is how you two met. You were on your shift during that stormy night. you had always heard stories about the famed killer of crystal lake but unlike the rest of the population you actually felt quite sorry for him and had always had a bit of sorrow for the man. You'd always put a fresh bouquet of roses and Lillie's on his grave. So when that lightning had hit his headstone and up came the man you cared oh so deeply for you were beyond excited.
Thomas Hewitt:
When you told Tommy about your job he was beyond worried for you. What if you tripped and fell in a grave or what if you were cleaning the headstones and a zombie grabbed you. His imagination was overreacting bless him. It took you a while to calm him down and reassure him that everything was ok. To say that he'd stop worrying would be a lie but at least his mind will be a little at ease.
Lester:
This rat of a man would find it awesome that you work with dead people. You have to remind him that you don't work with the dead but simply bury them and clean their headstones. Still Lester thinks it's really cool but he would be lying to say if he wasn't a little scared of you now. Don't be surprised to see a lot of new gifts if you've had a bad day
Michael Myers:
For Michael I doubt that he'd care all that much. In a way he probably thinks that somehow he's helping you with your job. he kills you bury. Although you can't disagree with his logic it still annoys you that he gives you so much work because it then means that you can't spend much time with him. Maybe that's his plan all along the sneaky bastard
So this has actually been cited by academics as part of the major draw to online spaces is the fact that just existing in public is reacted to with hostility and punishment. Gretchen McCulloch discussed this is in her book Because Internet, citing research that shows teens and young adults want to be outside! We want to spend time in social places, it’s just that there aren’t any places to exist in public without being charged for it.
When I was homeless as a kid my little brother and I loved to go to the library. We would keep warm in there reading good books all day long. Until residents of the town complained about us “loitering” at the library each day. The library staff then told us we were no longer allowed to stay more than an hour at a time. Imagine seeing two homeless children spending their entire days quietly reading just to keep out of the cold and having a damn problem with it.
Even the fact that teens use all kinds of social networks at higher rates than twenty-somethings doesn’t necessarily mean that they prefer to hang out online. Studies consistently show that most teens would rather hang out with their friends in person. The reasons are telling: teens prefer offline interaction because it’s “more fun” and you “can understand what people mean better.” But suburban isolation, the hostility of malls and other public places to groups of loitering teenagers, and schedules packed with extracurriculars make these in-person hangouts difficult, so instead teens turn to whatever social site or app contains their friends (and not their parents). As danah boyd puts it, “Most teens aren’t addicted to social media; if anything, they’re addicted to each other.”
Just like the teens who whiled away hours in mall food courts or on landline telephones became adults who spent entirely reasonable amounts of time in malls and on phone calls, the amount of time that current teens spend on social media or their phones is not necessarily a harbinger of what they or we are all going to be doing in a decade. After all, adults have much better social options. They can go out, sans curfew, to bars, pubs, concerts, restaurants, clubs, and parties, or choose to stay in with friends, roommates, or romantic partners. Why, adults can even invite people over without parental permission and keep the bedroom door closed! (page 102-103)
The source I’d really recommend for lots more on this topic is It’s Complicated: The Social Lives of Networked Teens by danah boyd, a highly readable ethnography spanning a decade of observation of how teens use social media. Here are a couple relevant excerpts:
I often heard parents complain that their children preferred computers to “real” people. Meanwhile, the teens I met repeatedly indicated that they would much rather get together with friends in person. A gap in perspective exists because teens and parents have different ideas of what sociality should look like. Whereas parents often highlighted the classroom, after-school activities, and prearranged in-home visits as opportunities for teens to gather with friends, teens were more interested in informal gatherings with broader groups of peers, free from adult surveillance. Many parents felt as though teens had plenty of social opportunities whereas the teens I met felt the opposite.
Today’s teenagers have less freedom to wander than any previous generation. Many middle-class teenagers once grew up with the option to “do whatever you please, but be home by dark.” While race, socioeconomic class, and urban and suburban localities shaped particular dynamics of childhood, walking or bicycling to school was ordinary, and gathering with friends in public or commercial places—parks, malls, diners, parking lots, and so on—was commonplace. Until fears about “latchkey kids” emerged in the 1980s, it was normal for children, tweens, and teenagers to be alone. It was also common for youth in their preteen and early teenage years to take care of younger siblings and to earn their own money through paper routes, babysitting, and odd jobs before they could find work in more formal settings. Sneaking out of the house at night was not sanctioned, but it wasn’t rare either. (page 85-86)
From wealthy suburbs to small towns, teenagers reported that parental fear, lack of transportation options, and heavily structured lives restricted their ability to meet and hang out with their friends face to face. Even in urban environments, where public transportation presumably affords more freedom, teens talked about how their parents often forbade them from riding subways and buses out of fear. At home, teens grappled with lurking parents. The formal activities teens described were often so highly structured that they allowed little room for casual sociality. And even when parents gave teens some freedom, they found that their friends’ mobility was stifled by their parents. While parental restrictions and pressures are often well intended, they obliterate unstructured time and unintentionally position teen sociality as abnormal. This prompts teens to desperately—and, in some cases, sneakily—seek it out. As a result, many teens turn to what they see as the least common denominator: asynchronous social media, texting, and other mediated interactions. (page 90)
Anyway, more people need to read It’s Complicated, danah boyd really takes young people and technology seriously and doesn’t patronize or sensationalize, and it was a huge influence on me in figuring out the tone for Because Internet so I want to make sure it gets credit!
summary: there is only one thing worse than being hated by draco malfoy; it’s being fancied by him.
requests are closed for now! please refrain from plagiarizing my work.
After being on the receiving end of Malfoy’s torment for four whole years at Hogwarts—a place where she’s supposed to be making friends and learning and making the most out of all her youthful years—[Y/N] is beginning to grow tired.
The last thing she’s supposed to be worrying about is a snarky Slytherin boy who always has some sort of rude remark resting on his lips every time he comes across her in the corridors. Or anywhere, for that matter—Draco Malfoy’s incessant jest seems to stay within no boundaries.
Eleven-year-old [Y/N] used to be fazed by it; she used to cry herself to sleep every time the platinum blond would push past her in the hallway, yelling out something offensive on his way, usually to do with her friendship with blood-traitors and the “big-headed” Harry Potter (or so Malfoy referred to him). She used to feel angry—angry enough to want to whip her wand out at him and hex him into oblivion every time he’d even as much as lay eyes on her. But the more Malfoy tried to bother her, the more it didn’t anymore.
Fourth year wasn’t so bad. Malfoy had already called her about a hundred nasty names at that point and was running out of them—his creativity was dwindling and [Y/N]’s concern along with it. She’d even laughed at him, one time during Transfiguration class—genuinely laughed, not out of frustration or anger but because she found something that he said to her funny.
“How does it feel being surrounded by blood-traitors and Mudbloods, [Y/L/N]? Pity you chose the wrong crowd to hang around.”
“How did it feel to get punched by a girl, Malfoy? I hear Hermione packs quite a punch.”
Malfoy’s nose had wrinkled into his signature sneer before he scoffed. “Tell Granger she can improve her right hook.” At which point [Y/N] had snorted out a laugh—and yes, it wasn’t a full-blown burst of chortles, but it was a laugh nonetheless.
Fifth year rolls around and Draco Malfoy is the least of [Y/N]’s worries. She’s gotten over his nagging at this point; all his jabs have lost a bit, if not all of their luster.
But then a week after classes have started, Malfoy starts acting—weird. Very weird. [Y/N] has no idea what’s gotten into him, but Draco’s cruel insults seem to have veered off course and taken a very dramatic turn. He still yells at her in the hallways, but not to make some harmful jibe [Y/N] has heard thousands of times before. Instead Draco—yes, Draco Malfoy, the same boy who has never once failed to torment her in the past years they’ve known each other—has now made it a habit to yell pick-up lines. At her. At [Y/N]. At the same girl he’s been bad-mouthing for the past four years.
The first time it happens, [Y/N] can’t believe her ears. She thinks he’s yelling at someone else other than her, because there is no way bloody Draco Malfoy is shouting “DO YOU PLAY QUIDDITCH? BECAUSE YOU SEEM LIKE A KEEPER” at her from halfway across the Great Hall.
But he’s definitely staring at her, grinning widely in that conceited sort of way that [Y/N] has always despised.
“Is he talking to me?” [Y/N] asks Hermione, bewildered.
“Looks like it.” Hermione looks just as surprised as her. “Knowing Malfoy, he’s not up to anything good. Ignore him, [Y/N].”
But ignoring Draco Malfoy is not something [Y/N] is capable of; the feistiness in her makes sure of that. So instead of moving on and turning a blind eye, she cups her hands over her mouth and yells, just as loud, “ARE YOU A BLUDGER? BECAUSE I’D LOVE TO BASH A BEATER’S BAT INTO YOUR—”
